Chapter 7-Kenya
“Hurry up! Kenya, come on!” Sydney, my best friend, yelled from my living room. It wasn’t my main living room because that was located downstairs. It was the room on the opposite side of my ensuite bathroom that I liked to lounge in when I didn’t feel like walking all the way downstairs.
“I’m coming,” I yelled from my closet.
“You don’t have much time left, and you’re wasting it.”
I hadn’t been on a date in over five years, and my nerves were all over the place.
I called her over to my house so that she could help me find something to wear.
It wasn’t the fact that I didn’t have enough clothes because I had more than enough, but for the most part, my wardrobe was composed of suits and an array of wardrobe staples that every attorney needed to have.
I walked out of my closet with my head held high, knowing this had to be the outfit.
I looked good, and I felt even better. The crisp black fabric of my fitted suit was comfortable and cool against my skin.
The pants were tailored at the waist, so naturally they fit me like a glove.
Underneath my suit jacket was a black and white ruffled shirt, providing an extra layer of warmth and protection.
Most restaurants were cold, so I wanted to be prepared with an extra layer just in case.
“What do you think?” I did a full spin, allowing her to see my attire and all its designer glory.
“Oh no, ma’am. That’s a negative. Turn around and try again.”
“Why? What’s wrong with this?”
“Do you want your date to feel like you are his attorney? Because that’s how I feel looking at you.
Like I’m getting a divorce, and nobody told me about it.
I look at you and think, this girl is about to win my case and make me a rich divorcee,” she said with an air of seriousness consuming her demeanor.
“I wanted to look cute and professional. What’s the problem?”
“ Professional . Really, Kenya? You are going for the wrong look. You need to look free and approachable. Maybe even freaky and ready. In all the things you need to be, you definitely don’t need to be cute and professional.
Why would you want to look professional on a date?
Are you looking for a man or for a law firm partner?
Whichever it is, let me know.” She threw her hands in the air before allowing them to fall on her hips.
“Sydney, I don’t like you.” I was doing a terrible job of keeping my laughter at bay as I took in her words and criticism.
“Yeah, I love you too, Kenya,” she said, laughing. “Have you even talked to this mystery man on the phone, or have you been sticking to the app to communicate?”
“No … I mean, yes. We have talked a few times,” I said, downplaying the amount of conversations that we engaged in. Devon and I talked daily, and hearing his voice had become a highlight of my day, but I wasn’t ready to divulge that just yet.
The last time I found myself enjoying a man, he made a fool out of me.
“How did he sound?” Sydney asked, staring at me with her big doe eyes.
My best friend had always been gorgeous.
Even in a matching hoodie set, her curves were defined, making her body one to be envied, and she knew it.
I loved her because she had the personality to match, and over the years, her confidence had rubbed off on me.
Growing up, I was always made to feel like I was less than because I had a darker complexion, particularly in comparison to Kendra.
In the words of my mother, I’d never be the prettiest girl in the room because my complexion was darker than a paper bag. Whereas I had a complexion closer to my father’s, Kendra took our mother’s hue.
“Umm … I’m not sure how you want me to answer that question.”
“Kenya, how does the man sound?”
“How did he sound, meaning how was his vibe?” I asked for the sake of clarity, and she nodded, giving me what I needed to proceed and answer her question.
“He seems nice, like he has a laid-back and suave personality. Our conversations flow fairly well. He just seems a little more urban than what I typically go for, which makes me slightly uncomfortable, but I’ve had the opposite of him and look where it got me. ”
I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. Ironically, dating the man who was everything on paper got me nothing more than a broken heart, a bruised ego and more hurt feelings than I knew what to do with.
With Devon, I could hear the edge in his voice, and while a part of me found it exciting, the more reserved side of me felt like we wouldn’t go anywhere past the first date.
He didn’t seem like a thug or anything like that, but I could tell he had stamps decorating his black card, and I was sure he was more at ease at the cookout than I ever would be.
His cultural approach also had me second guessing everything I thought to say. It was to where I allowed him to do most of the talking when we were on the phone. He’d ask me a question, and I’d give him a brief answer, out of fear that I’d say something wrong or off-putting.
“I’m reading between the lines, and guessing that when you say urban , you mean hood.
If that’s the case, girl, you need some thug love in your life.
A little hood love ain’t never hurt anybody.
Curtis is a little hood, and I love it,” she joked, referring to her husband.
“My man loves me down and I give him the same in return.” The smile on her face reinforced the love she had for him.
“A man with a little edge is a break in the mundaneness of your life.”
Sydney and I had been friends since our freshman year in high school. We were both accustomed to a certain type of high-end lifestyle, and our parents made sure that we had the best of everything.
Her relationship with Curtis was a rebellion against her parents’ expectations. I loved Curtis for Sydney, but he possessed none of the qualities they sought in a partner for her, nor did he come from the same pedigree.
Curtis worked at a factory where he assembled cars. He didn’t have the best job, but he was a good man. He showed her daily how much he loved her and, even with limited means, he gave her the world.
“Just because that’s what you needed, doesn’t mean it’s what I need.” I said, coming to my own defense.
“Don’t knock it till you try it, boo,” she said, flashing her wedding ring. “Now go back in that big ass closet and come out with something better. You said y’all are going to eat seafood. Who eats seafood in a suit? Nobody!” She shooed me away and reclaimed her spot on the couch.
In my eyes, what I had on was suitable, but dating was so foreign to me that I knew I needed to listen to her, so I did as I was told and went back into my closet to scan for something better .
Standing in the middle of my closet, my eyes scanned the room from left to right several times over. Amidst a jumble of clothes, the perfect date night dress—a vibrant red fabric—stood out, seizing my attention.
Among the sea of neutral colors that made up my closet, I don’t know how I’d missed it before, but now it was calling out to me.
An unexpected chill of nervousness and excitement swept over me as I grabbed the dress, a pair of black and gold YSL pointed toe pumps, and the clutch to match.
I undressed and then rushed to put on the new items because, as Sydney had mentioned, I was running out of time.
Standing in front of the mirror, I appreciated how the ruching at the front and on the sides hugged my frame, and how the square neckline exposed my cleavage slightly, in the classiest way.
The dress stopped just above my calve muscles, which allowed my pumps to do the job of enhancing my naturally toned legs.
With a renewed level of confidence, I headed out to my living room for the judge to render her verdict.
“Now, come thru, Kenya, honey. Yes!” she yelled and added a few snaps of her fingers for theatrics.
“ This is the bad ass vixen that I expected to see out the gate. I need to either borrow this, or you need to get me one just like it because, baby, this is the dress Johnny Gill was singing about. It had to be!” She encouraged me, and I soaked up every word with a smile.
“Okay, now. Let’s see what’s under this bonnet?
” She asked as she pulled the silk wrap off my head, exposing all of my flexi rods.
“Girl, did you just pull off my bonnet like you were crazy? Never touch a black woman’s hair without her permission.”
“And I did, because why do you still have it on? We need to get you together. You have less than an hour before you need to be out the door. Let’s go in here and make some magic.”
Although I did the legwork on my hair by putting the rods in, Sydney took them out, fingered the curls, and did my makeup like a professional. When it came to makeup, I did the bare minimum, typically opting for a volume enhancing mascara and a medium nude lipstick.
On special occasions, I applied a nice blush and red lipstick, but nothing too over the top.
“Almost done.” Sydney put on the finishing touches just as Tobias showed up to escort me to my date.
“Aye! Don’t be in here naked.” Just like Sydney, he had a key to my house, so I wasn’t surprised when he made his presence known. “What’s up, Kenny? Hey, future ex-wife,” Tobias joked with a grin when he walked in and saw Sydney.
She sucked her teeth in irritation, and he smiled even brighter.
They dated very briefly when we were teenagers, and it always slipped my mind until they saw one another. Sydney tried to avoid him, and Tobias loved to provoke her enough to make her curse him out.
“Tobias, don’t make me slap the hell out of you, then call my husband.”
“Yo’ husband. Ha! That man doesn’t know what to do with you. Not for real,” he replied, causing Sydney to kiss her teeth and roll her eyes even harder. “You should have been mine.”